


Father of Mine

by Urrrkaj



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Mild Language, Songfic, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urrrkaj/pseuds/Urrrkaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and John have a fight. Dean storms out and takes a drive in the Impala. An unfortunate song serves as the narrative for him and John's relationship. </p><p>Angsty, angsty, angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Please be nice, this is my first fic. I was driving when "Father of Mine" by Everclear came in the radio. I pictured Dean as a late teenager when it came out, being angsty and beating himself up over his relationship with John. So, this is the result.

“God Damnit.” Dean sat in the driveway, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.  
_“Not that there is a God,”_ he thought. If there were, what beef did he have with Dean? No, if there was a God, he was an ass. And he certainly wouldn’t help Dean out by damning his father.  
Starting up the impala, he pulled onto the gravel road. He headed North past the interstate, getting on the two-lane highway towards Rolla.  
Dean turned on the stereo. The familiar refrains of Foreigner were usually a comfort, reminding him of “home” and better times. Today he didn’t want to be reminded- in fact he wanted to forget. To forget the cheap motel rooms, the musty trailers, and especially his Dad. God, did he wish he could forget about his dad.  
He scanned the radio to find Evangelical talk shows and modern country. _“Shouldn’t be surprised, this is the Ozarks.”_ Finally he found a local college station. He could deal with a little Matrix techno if it meant he didn’t have to listen to freakin’ Billy Graham or Faith Hill.  
The awkward DJ came on. Man, he wouldn’t shut up. Dean would normally turn it off or scan for something else but he needed noise. Anything to escape his thoughts- escape John.  
Finally a song came on. Guitar riffs.

> Father of mine  
>  Take me back to the day  
>  Yeah, when I was still your golden boy

Shit. This was not the song to hear right now. Was Dean ever John’s golden boy? Back when Mary was still around he remembered smiles and hugs. He remembered John giving him piggy back rides and taking him to the county fair. He was dad’s buddy. But Sammy, Sammy was always the favorite. The Golden boy. Dean was just a mini-John with Mary’s eyes.

Tell me where did you go?  
Yeah, you had the world inside your hand

Dean remembered when John was his hero. Even after Mary left and the drinking started, there would be days that he was proud to have him as his dad. Proud to be his “little soldier.” He would take orders and help him cook dinner or clean the house. They would go to the drive-in and see a movie on a cool summer night. Then there would be a blonde on screen, and John would stiffen. They wouldn’t leave during the movie- no, that would make Sammy upset- but they wouldn’t stay for the second show. Instead John would drive them to the motel or Bobby’s and drop them off for a few days. When he came back with sour breath and red eyes, Dean would distract Sammy. He’d take him camping or go to the library- anything to get him away while John slept it off. Then when he woke up, his dad would be back to normal. He’d give bear hugs and sing along to Foreigner. Dean loved when Dad was happy. It meant he could breathe.

> I was ten years old  
>  Doin' all that I could  
>  I never understood you then  
>  And I guess I never will

He remembered feeling like it was his fault. It’s my fault. He would be cleaning up after dinner and break a plate. He would spill his soda in the Impala. It is my fault. John would go silent. His knuckles would go white in fists by his side or ringing the steering wheel. It’s my fault. John would pull over at a gas station and buy some whiskey, whatever was cheap. Old Taylor, Kentucky Gentleman. Those were names that made Dean cringe. He still wouldn’t say a word until he found a dusty road surrounded by fields. He would be halfway into the bottle by then, and the Impala would swerve as he pulled off the highway. Sam and Dean would stay silent. Then John would step out of the car.  
The first time this happened, Dean thought maybe his dad just needed a break. Being cooped up in the Impala and cheap motels was taxing on everyone. Dean was 18 and need some alone time at least every other day. Sammy was just hitting puberty and started taking long showers. Seriously, it was hard to be surrounded all the time. So Dean didn’t question his dad needing space.  
When John whipped his door open and threw Dean to the ground, he knew that he didn’t space. He needed release. That was his first black eye. Looking at it now, he laughs. He let me off easy.  
Then John returned to the car and acted like nothing happened. Sammy cried, but didn’t say a word.  “Thank God he is the smart one,” Dean would think. “Thank God it was me”.  
John would leave more frequently after that. Dean actually looked forward to it. It meant he was with his real family, just Sammy and him. John would leave them money for food and it was almost like a vacation.

> Then he walked away

Then John stopped coming back. Dean would start splitting sandwiches with Sammy. Then he would act busy during meals so that Sammy didn’t notice he wasn’t eating. After a week of no food, Dean got desperate. He started stealing. He started hustling pool. And then, when a stranger gave him a leer outside of a rest stop, Dean put on his best smile and did what he knew he had to do. Sammy never questioned where the money came from, and Dean never let him know.  
That’s how it had been for the past 2 years, Sammy and Dean skipping from one interstate exit town to the next. They wouldn’t stay too long. If they did people would start asking questions. “Where are your parents?” “Why aren’t you in school?” 3 weeks. That is the longest they had stayed put until now.  
Dean got his GED and a job at a local garage. He was thankful for his dad then, at least. John was adamant about Dean knowing how to fix the Impala. After years on the road, it was a necessity- they often took tiny highways where service stations were slim. They’d have to walk hours before finding a payphone, and mechanics cost money. So, dad had taught Dean everything he could, and the Impala was in perfect shape because of it.  
He found a trailer on the outskirts of town, and Sammy started school. They had a good life, and nobody asked questions.  
_It’s my fault._ Those were his thoughts when John showed up at their door. He had messed up and used one of John’s credit cards at the grocery store last week.Thank God Sammy wasn’t there- he was spending the night at a friend’s house. He wasn’t there to see John’s red eyes and crusty mouth. He wasn’t there to see Dean dodge John’s punch. He wasn’t there to see Dean punch back.

He had never fought back.

John was stunned. He slurred something, but just stood there as still as he could. Then his knees buckled, and he fell. Dean he saw tears fill John’s eyes.  
_It’s my fault._ Then Dean hit him again. And again. _This is my fault._ He couldn’t stop. John’s face was bloody now. _This is my fault._ His dad just sat there, taking it. Dean stopped and looked at John. Looked at his dad. He was covered in snot and blood. His face was starting to swell, but it still looked hollow. He had lost weight. He had lost Mary. And now, with this, he knew he had lost Dean.

“Get out.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
_This is my fault._ His dad looked broken. His dad was broken.  
“I’m sorry, Mary.” This is my fault. John was crumpled on the floor, repeating her name. It became his mantra.  
“I’m sorry, Mary.” He looked up. That lost looked disappeared as his eyes turned dark. He raised his fist.  
“I’m sorry, Mary.” Those were the words he said as he smashed into Dean’s jaw. “I’m sorry, Mary.”  
_It’s **his** fault._ Dean opened the door.

> Then he walked away


End file.
